Chapter 34: The Matriarch’s Secret

The quiet hum of the engine filled the car as it cruised away from Blackwell Manor, but Luna barely noticed the blur of trees outside the window. Her mind was still tangled in what had unfolded inside that estate—what William Blackwell had hinted at, what he refused to fully reveal.

Killian sat beside her, eyes forward, jaw tense, shoulders rigid. He hadn't spoken a word since they left his grandfather's study, and Luna wasn't sure if it was because of the cryptic warning—or the way his grandfather had said it.

"Ask your father. He's the one who gave her the key."

A puzzle with half its pieces missing, that was what this had become. And now, Celeste held something dangerous. Something linked to Killian's father.

Luna glanced at Killian's profile. Cold. Composed. Untouchable.

But beneath the marble exterior, she could feel it—he was unraveling slowly. And the worst part was, he didn't even see it.

"We should speak to your parents again," she said quietly.

His brow twitched, but he didn't turn to her. "My father won't talk."

"Then maybe your mother will."

Killian finally looked at her, a flicker of hesitation passing through his eyes. "She's the only one who ever believed in this family's soul. If she knows something, she's kept it buried for a reason."

Luna held his gaze. "Maybe she's just waiting for someone to ask the right question."

Margaret Blackwell met them in the sitting room just after lunch, her usual gentle smile in place as she set down her embroidery and rose to greet them.

"Oh, you two look like you've seen a ghost," she said with a light chuckle. "Or worse—my husband in one of his moods."

Killian gave a faint shake of his head. "Worse."

Margaret's smile faded slightly. "What happened?"

"It's about Celeste," Luna said gently.

Margaret's brow furrowed. "That girl again? I thought she had vanished for good."

"She didn't," Killian said. "She's working with Cameron. But there's more—she's holding something over him. And it might connect to Father."

The warmth in Margaret's expression faltered. "Your father?"

Killian nodded. "Grandfather said something. That Father gave Celeste the key—to something hidden. Something important."

For the first time in years, Margaret sat down slowly, as though the weight of those words physically pressed her into the armchair.

Killian's gaze sharpened. "Mother. What aren't you telling us?"

She looked at Luna first, her eyes soft and uncertain, as though gauging whether to speak freely.

"It's alright," Luna said quietly. "Whatever it is, we need to know."

Margaret folded her hands in her lap, hesitating.

"There's a vault," she finally said.

Luna leaned forward. "A vault?"

Margaret nodded slowly. "Your grandfather has always kept two sets of records—one official, the other private. The official ones are what you see in board meetings and audits. The private ones… those were reserved for legacy transitions. Blackwell secrets. Mistakes. Deals. Agreements that could never see the light of day."

Killian's voice dropped. "Where is it?"

"In the east wing," Margaret said softly. "Behind the old portrait of Richard's father. There's a lockbox built into the wall. Biometric access—his, your father's, and yours."

Luna glanced at Killian. "So how could Celeste have gotten in?"

Margaret hesitated. Then, very quietly, she said, "Because I once saw your father give her something."

Killian's entire body went still.

Margaret kept going. "It was years ago—before everything happened between you two. I didn't think anything of it then. I thought perhaps it was just a gift, a piece of jewelry. But now I realize… it might have been an access key."

"You never questioned it?" Killian asked, his voice tight.

"I did," Margaret admitted. "But your father dismissed me. Said it was harmless. That Celeste was just helping him with a project."

Luna's brows furrowed. "What kind of project?"

Margaret shook her head. "He never told me."

Killian's fists clenched. "So Celeste may have had access for years. She could've copied everything, stored backups, waited for the right time to strike."

Margaret reached across the table, her hand gently resting over Killian's. "I'm sorry, darling. I should have spoken up sooner."

He didn't pull away. But he didn't say anything either.

Luna saw the shadow pass through his expression. Not anger—just another crack in the mask he wore so tightly. Another blow to his belief that he could control everything.

"We need to see that vault," he said after a beat.

Margaret nodded. "I'll take you."

The east wing of Blackwell Manor was a silent gallery of ancestral portraits and antique furniture. The portrait Margaret mentioned hung at the end of a corridor—an oil painting of a stern-looking man in a high-backed chair, eyes cold and prideful.

Margaret pressed her palm against a hidden panel in the wall, and a soft click echoed through the hallway. The portrait slid aside, revealing a sleek steel panel with a fingerprint scanner and retinal sensor.

Killian stepped forward and scanned both.

The vault door hissed open.

Luna held her breath as the light flickered on inside.

Rows of file cabinets. Lockboxes. Old ledgers. Digital drives encased in temperature-controlled glass.

Killian walked inside first, his steps deliberate. Luna followed, her eyes scanning everything.

"There's so much," she murmured.

Killian moved toward a drawer labeled "Legacy Exceptions." He opened it and pulled out a thick manila envelope with Celeste's name scrawled across the front.

Inside were contracts.

Legal drafts.

Financial allocations.

And at the bottom—photographs.

Luna's breath hitched as Killian flipped through them.

Celeste. In boardrooms. In private lounges. With powerful men.

Margaret stepped closer, peering at the documents. "These aren't business meetings."

"No," Killian said coldly. "These are blackmail setups."

Luna shook her head in disbelief. "She's been collecting leverage for years."

"And not just on us," Killian added, flipping to the last page.

It was a transaction record.

A payment made from Obsidian Holdings, dated three years ago.

"Obsidian," Luna whispered. "She's been working with them all along."

Margaret stepped back slightly, her face pale. "Oh my God."

"She wasn't Cameron's pawn," Killian said darkly. "She was the Circle's plant."

Luna stared at the papers in his hands.

And then she saw it.

Tucked behind the payment receipt—another name.

Her stomach dropped.

"Killian," she said, voice shaking. "Look at the signature."

He did.

And for a moment, the air went still.

It wasn't just Celeste's signature on the payment.

It was his father's.